Mr Monk and Natalie
by dearlyphilosophic
Summary: A short, sweet Monk/Natalie friendship story bordering on a romance. ---- This is my first real fanfic ever, so reviews and criticism are greatly appreciated. *LAST CHAPTER UP*
1. Chapter 1

It's amazing, what just three numbers mean to the sleepless. It erases the boundaries between what is tangible, and what enters our heads in fantasies or nightmares. Our tongues disconnect with our brains, releasing a flood of thoughts and ideas that, when the dawn breaks, mean nothing. These three numbers, glaring evily out of the clock face, are an unceasing reminder of what you are missing. Rest and escape. To the sleepless, dawn is not a promise. It mocks you.

4:17 were the numbers casting an eerie, red luminescence across the bed covers. Every wrinkle was thrown into harsh relief, despite any attempt to straighten them. Street lights shone gently though the window on the opposite side of the room, reflecting off of a highly polished bureau. Though the light was a bit friendlier than the clock, it still held a spiteful, derisive air, a reminder of the hour.

Lonely eyes cast about the room, seeking an imperfection, a distraction from their thoughts, but there were none. Nothing to fix or adjust. The eyes closed gently, painfully, reflecting upon their inner visions. Images of her. The object of their affection.

_Trudy._

Pain and loneliness flared inside when her face appeared in Adrian's mind. It hurt just as much as the day she died, and he knew it always would. He loved her, and sometimes love leaves us hollow.

Trudy was his life. The day she died, a piece of himself was lost. The emptiness festered and bled inside his heart, and he could feel every agonizing second of it. At times, he felt as if he would be consumed by the aching darkness, but he knew. Trudy would have wanted him, Adrian Monk, to survive. To be strong.

But strength doesn't come easily to one at 4:17 in the morning. Ghosts and old weaknesses come under the spotlight, leaving us speechless and afraid. Nightmares become all the more real, and demons show their faces.

Adrian sat up wearily, swinging his legs out over the side of the bed and pushing the covers away. Feeling weak and tired, he put his head in his hands and sighed. Adrian knew sleep wouldn't come tonight. Resignedly, he stood and walked slowly towards the doorway. For a moment, he paused, looking back at the bed. The blankets were jumbled and wrinkled, but he swallowed the urge to straighten them. It didn't matter.

Adrian continued down the hallway, glancing at the left wall. A picture of Trudy, his Trudy, hung there. He stopped, staring. She was so beautiful. His wearied expression softened and he stepped closer, reaching out. His fingers brushed the cold glass lovingly, touching her ever-smiling face. God, she was beautiful.

His eyes misted over, but he brusquely brushed the tears away and continued down the hall. He needed a distraction, something other than his thoughts. He thought of sweeping, but he had already done that. In fact, he had cleaned and re-cleaned his entire house in the throes of his insomnia. There was nothing left but his racing thoughts.

Adrian entered the living room, glancing around. Everything was in perfect order, just as it should be. As it always was. He shuffled slowly towards his desk, and slumped tiredly into the chair. Elbows on the desktop, Adrian rubbed his eyes, sighing again. Nights like this were becoming far too frequent. He was becoming more distracted and exhausted by the day. So much so that Captain Stottlemeier gave him the week off.

"You need to relax," He told Adrian. "Stay home. Get some sleep. We'll be fine."

_Relax, hm? _ Adrian thought ruefully. _So much for that._

During one of his therapy sessions, Dr. Bell had suggested sleeping pills. Adrian refused. He hated the idea of chemicals flowing though his veins, lulling him into an artificial sleep. But now he wouldn't have passed them up. He would have given anything just to sleep an hour.

Adrian stopped rubbing his eyes for a moment, and looked up. He could see the pale greenish light of dawn filtering through the curtains of the large window facing him.

He glanced around the desktop, his eyes landing on the telephone by his elbow. The thought that he should call Natalie crossed his sleep-deprived mind. He picked up the phone, but, halfway through dialing her number, he set it back on the receiver. Adrian couldn't bother her now. It was too early.

_Besides_, he thought to himself. _She wouldn't understand._

Natalie was his assistant, not his therapist. He couldn't just push all his problems on her, and expect her to help him deal with it. She had enough to deal with already. Having to trail Adrian everywhere he went, supporting Julie through college, sharing the stress of detective work...

No, he just couldn't.

Slowly, he turned his head towards one of the side drawers of the desk. That was where Adrian kept a copy of Trudy's case file. He must have pored over every detail dozens of times, but he couldn't stop. The mystery of her murder lay unsolved.

He reached out, delicately, to open the drawer, and paused. The pain of her loss filled every space of his mind. For a moment he was overwhelmed. He wanted to retreat, to escape. The urge filled his body, but he pushed it aside. Gently, he opened the drawer, pulling out the file. He set it on the desk, opening it cautiously, as if it were a precious ancient manuscript. Slowly, he pulled out the pictures of the mangled wreckage of her car, barely glancing at them. He already knew every detail. Crumbling remnants of her day planner lay inside small plastic bags, on top of the actual case file. He moved the bags aside and began to read the incident report.

"_Trudy was killed at 9AM on December 14, 1997, when a bomb planted on her car detonated in the B5 section of a parking structure at the intersection of Geraldi Street and Summerset Avenue (now the future site of the Trudy Monk Memorial Playground). She was alone in the car, and no one else was--_"

He couldn't read any more. Tears filled his eyes, this time unable to be stopped. He lay his head on the desk, whimpering silently. His entire body shook with sobs. After a long while, his eyes began to close, and the tears stopped their free flow. He drifted gently into peaceful sleep, images of Trudy dancing through his brain.

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**First chapter! :] Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

Natalie pulled up to the curb near Adrian's apartment. She was just a bit ahead of time, but he wouldn't mind. She liked driving early in the morning, admiring the quiet and the gentle sunshine. Every moment of peace was treasured.

She opened the car door, closing it gently to preserve the silence. Her surroundings felt innocent, almost delicate, in this light. It was like a sleeping child that didn't need to be woken, not yet. Let the traffic and clamor of thousands of people do that.

Natalie wandered slowly down the sidewalk, coming up to the front door of the apartment. The metal 5B on the door gleamed in the sunshine. She reached for the doorknob, but thought better of it. She was early, and she didn't want to disturb Adrian. She knocked on the door, gently but firmly.

"Mr. Monk? It's me, Natalie." she paused silently for a moment.

Hearing no response, Natalie knocked harder.

"I thought I would come over early this morning." she called.

Natalie waited again for him to answer the door. She pressed her ear to the wood, listening. _Hm, _she mused. _He must still be asleep. _She opened her purse, riffling around inside, looking for the extra key Monk had given her. Natalie knew he wouldn't mind her coming in, as long as she didn't touch anything.

She put the key into the lock and turned it, slowly opening the door and stepping over the threshold, gazing down the familiar hallway. This apartment had nearly become her second home. Natalie knew where everything was, how it was organized. She had to. No one wanted to trigger one of Monk's infamous cleaning sprees. He wouldn't rest until he was entirely sure every facet of his home was spotless.

Natalie padded softly towards the living room. Her plan was to read quietly until Adrian awoke, then help him make breakfast, but her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of him slumped on the desktop, his face covering an open case file.

_Oh god, _thought Natalie. _Trudy's file. How long has he been sleeping here?_

"Mr. Monk?" she spoke softly.

Adrian shot up, startled quite suddlenly out of restfulness.

"Wha-?!" He turned around in his chair. "Oh. Natalie, it's you. Um--"

Adrian tried hiding Trudy's file, but he knew Natalie had seen it by the slightly worried expression on her face.

"Are you alright?" Natalie asked, concern creasing her brow.

"Y-yes, of course I am." he replied hurriedly. He hated that look. "What are you doing here? You're..." he checked his watch, rubbing it's face absently with his sleeve. "twenty-seven minutes early. Something wrong?"

"Oh, no." Natalie shrugged. "I just felt like coming early. With Julie in college, the house can get pretty lonely. You don't mind do you? I could leave--"

"No, not at all." Adrian stood, folding up the case file and gently put it back in the drawer. "... just don't do it again." he smiled at her.

He turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Natalie followed.

"So, how are you this morning?" Monk called to her over his shoulder, moving towards the cabinets.

"Good. Great, actually. The drive here was beautiful," Natalie leaned over the island in the middle of the kitchen, resting her elbows on the cold stone surface. "I love this time in the morning."

"Good," Adrian mumbled, pulling a mug out of a neat stack of ten, his favorite number. He glanced at it in his hand. "Ah... now the mugs are uneven." He turned towards Natalie, wincing slightly at the sight of her skin touching his perfectly clean countertop. "You want some coffee? Then there would be eight mugs, a nice, even number..."

"Yes, Mr. Monk. I would." She said, laughing slightly. She had to consent, or she would never hear the end of it.

Adrian opened another cupboard, pulling out a container of instant coffee.

"What, no real coffee?" Natalie asked incredulously.

"This is coffee. See? Says it right on the label. It counts." He defended.

"Barely. It doesn't even have caffiene."

Adrian made a dissaproving noise as he reached toward his refridgerator for a bottle of water.

"I'm afraid of caffiene. Could you grab the tea kettle for me?"

Natalie plodded to the stove in the corner, grasping the handle of an entirely-too-spotless kettle.

"Here," she handed it over to Adrian. "I'm sure you are. I'm buying you a coffee maker for Christmas, mark my words."

Monk poured the water into the kettle and set it on the stove, turning the burner on.

"I'm afraid of coffee makers."

Natalie raised her eyebrows at him, leaning back against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Why?" she asked, amusement tinging the word.

"I don't know." he mumbled. "They're evil."

"Right."

Adrian hmphed. He opened the fridge again, pulling out a carton of eggs. He set it gingerly on the counter, and turned around to get a small bowl out of yet another cupboard. He found one, set it down, and opened the carton. He cringed.

"Something wrong?" asked Natalie.

"Yes." Adrian replied, flustered. "Not all of these eggs are perfectly symmetrical. I mean, look at _that_ one," he pointed to an egg on the left side. "It's all... lopsided! See?" he picked it up carefully, scrutinizing it.

Natalie stood on tiptoes, peering into Adrian's hand at the egg. It looked entirely ordinary.

"Mr. Monk, there isn't anything wrong with it!" she took it out of his hand. "It's an egg, for god's sake! Who cares if it's not perfect?"

"I do!"

Natalie sighed exasperatedly.

"Hey, hey!" Monk exclaimed worriedly. "Be careful with that! If it drops, I may never recover."

"Okay, I know." Natalie said, suddenly feeling guilty over her frustration.

_Things like this happen every day, _she thought. _It's just Monk._

"Intead we'll have toast, okay? Cut into perfect squares, just the way you like it."

Adrian smiled absently.

"Trudy used to do that for me." his voice light and aloof. "She would toast it perfectly on both sides, and put butter in an even layer on top." he paused. "If I would ask her why, she would just smile at me. She wouldn't say a word."

His demeanor became quiet and somber.

Natalie looked at him sadly. She knew how much he missed Trudy, having lost her own husband, Mitch. She had done the same thing, been so caught up in the memory of him that she forgot her surroundings. Natalie missed him dearly every day, but it was at times like this that the bittersweet longing grew nearly unbearable.

Adrian closed his eyes, breathing in slowly.

"Mr. Monk?" asked Natalie tentatively.

His eyes snapped open, as if he had been transported back and then forwards through time. He looked at her apologetically.

"I--I'm sorry. What were we doing?"

Natalie walked towards him, putting her hand on his shoulder understandingly.

"I was going to make you some toast." she smiled mournfully into his face. "I know what it feels like, Mr. Monk."

He looked away.

"I know." he said finally.

This was followed closely by another pause.

"Hey, how about if I help?" he asked, hopefully.

"Oh, sure!" laughed Natalie, trying to lighten the mood. "Please, go ahead."

She turned away from him, reaching out to grab a loaf of bread, when she paused.

"Oh, Mr. Monk, I almost forgot." she turned back to face him. "Julie is coming home for the weekend tonight, and I was wondering if you might like to have dinner at my house. She would love to see you."

Adrian could tell by her tone that it was an apology of sorts. He smiled at her and nodded.

"Of course I would."

Natalie smiled back, reaching again for the bread.

It was then Adrian realized just how grateful he was for Natalie. He was always appreciative, but he had never really thought about it. She put up with so much more than Trudy or even Sharona had, but she still came every day to work. Natalie wanted to be with him. Maybe this was what Trudy meant with that smile.

Adrian knew Natalie cared for him, just as Trudy had, but it was different in some untraceable way. It was worlds apart from how Trudy loved him, but somehow it meant just as much.

It was unconditional. That was it. The invisible yet essential tie that bound both Trudy and Natalie to himself. It was why he longed for his wife. It was why, in a silent, shy sort of way, cared for Natalie.

He was truely grateful.


	3. Chapter 3

It was getting on 8:00, and, even though dinner at the Teeger's was the most enjoyable experience Adrian had had in a while, he knew he couldn't linger. Another sleepless night lay before him. He stared unseeingly out the passenger side window at the city lights of San Francisco. He felt again the draining emptiness ebbing away at his resolve. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, Natalie glancing at him every once in a while.

She had been worrying about him lately. Natalie saw his exhaustion and fatigue, despite his attempts to hide it. His eyes were emptier than usual and his mind farther away. After she had seen Adrian this morning, slumped over Trudy's case file, she knew what was happening. Natalie had gone through the same hell many times before. Trudy's face must be haunting him every waking moment, he must hear her voice and feel her presence on the outskirts of his mind.

Natalie wanted to help Adrian, but she felt that he needed to come to her, and, that if it got bad enough, he would. But after this morning, she began to have doubts. Adrian was a stubborn person, and this _was _his struggle, but she couldn't just leave him. He needed someone, and here she was.

Finally, Natalie pulled up to the all-familiar curb. She got out and walked Adrian to his apartment, despite his refusals. He stopped directly in front of the door, staring, an almost fearful look on his face. He turned toward Natalie, slightly pale.

"I can't do it, Natalie." he murmered. "Not again."

She looked into his eyes, sympathetic.

"I know, Mr. Monk."

And he broke down. Adrian fell to his knees, head in hands, shoulders heaving from silent sobs. After a while in this position, he sat, with his back to the door, tears and hidden pain pouring down his face. Natalie sat with him, a hand on his shoulder, communicating quiet sympathy. She knew this misery. The only thing you can do is wait for the worst to pass.

Eventually, his breathing slowed, and he looked up sheepishly at Natalie. The tears had stopped. He swallowed.

"I'm sorry." Adrian whispered. "I shouldn't do this to you. I-- I don't know... you should be home, with Julie. Don't let me keep you." he wiped his eyes.

Natalie, who had removed her hand, put it back onto his shoulder.

"No, it's okay, Mr. Monk. I think you need me to stay."

He averted his gaze, and nodded. Natalie was right. He couldn't hide from her. Besides Trudy, she was the person who knew him best of all.

"You're right." he relented. "You are absolutely right."

"So, what's been going on?" she asked concernedly.

Monk raised his eyes to the sky, blinking back unruly tears.

"I can't sleep, Natalie. Every night I see her. Trudy." his voice faltered for a moment. "Memories race through my mind at a hundred miles an hour. The first time I met her, our wedding, the day she died..."

He clenched his fists.

"Every minute of it haunts me, and I can't do a damn thing to stop it. I can hear her, see her, smell her... I don't know what's wrong. I've always missed her terribly, but not like this." he looked back at Natalie, chuckling darkly. "I feel like I'm losing what's left of my sanity."

Natalie nodded understandingly.

"I know. After Mitch died, I could stay up for days. Julie was so little. She couldn't understand why her mom would break down crying whenever I tried to play with her. She would hug me and cry too, but that just made it worse." Natalie wiped away a stray tear, clenching her hands together. "Then, one day I woke up and realized I didn't feel so horrible anymore. I still missed him, but not in the same way. I saw that I couldn't hold on anymore, so I let go. I felt so guilty, but I knew Mitch would have wanted me and Julie happy."

"I don't know if I can let go, Natalie." he groaned. "I don't want to forget her."

Natalie turned toward him, sympathetic.

"Letting go doesn't mean you don't still love her. I love Mitch more than life, but I'm not holding to his memory as if he were still alive." she looked at him seriously. "You can't live a lie."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then stood.

"Thank you, Natalie." he smiled at her. "I don't know what else to say."

Adrian held out his hand to help her up, covering it with his sleeve.

"You don't have to say anything else."

There was a slightly awkward pause, in which both Adrian and Natalie averted their eyes from the other.

"I-- um... should go home now. Good bye, Mr. Monk" Natalie waved.

"Oh, yes. Good night, Natalie."

They stared at one another for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Then Natalie stepped up to Adrian, looked him in the eyes, and hugged him warmly. For a brief moment, he froze, confused. Then he lowered his arms, wrapping them around her, locked in her embrace. They stood this way for a while. Then Natalie looked into his eyes, locking his gaze. They were transfixed. Her face was much too close. For an instant Adrian was sure he would kiss her. But just for an instant

He looked away.

"Not yet, Natalie." he whispered.

Natalie stepped back, looking slightly embarassed, but not hurt.

"I understand." she smiled, and walked away.

Adrian opened the door, turning on the hallway light. He slowly walked down the hall, lost in thought. He had nearly kissed Natalie. They had been mere inches away, and, somehow, the thought didn't scare him. Halfway to his room, he looked up to see the same picture he had so lovingly caressed the night before.

He reached up to touch Trudy's face, but this time just felt glass. It didn't feel alive anymore. Something had shifted inside of him. He smiled at the picture, instead of the usual tears. Adrian continued to his bedroom. The clock cast a friendlier light.

He changed from his clothes into his pajamas, and lay down in bed.

Even though he was alone, he felt as though there were another presence in the room. Much kinder than the ones that had been keeping him awake. Gently, he closed his eyes, feeling unfamiliar waves of drowsiness. He smiled, before drifting away into peaceful darkness, happier than he had been in a very long time.

"_Trudy..."_

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**Acknowledgements:**

**Thank you any and all readers for being crazy enough to care about my random impulse to write at 2:00am. And review writers, without whom I would have dissolved into a small pile of shame.**

**Insomnia (to an extent) for inspiration. It comes in handy.**

**Emma and Lily, for telling me my story didn't suck. Even if it really does.**

**House, for keeping me awake. (and Wilson. And Taub, of course)**

**Imogen Heap, Frou Frou, Jim Moray, Seth Lakeman, Ruth Notman, The Weepies, Copeland, Roddy Woomble, Hammock, Rosie Thomas and Stephanie Dosen for keeping me sane with amazing music after all those long hours of writing.**

**And last, but most important, Monk. I've only been watching since August, and it's ending. I feel like I missed out on the most wonderful thing in the world. He was the only character I ever felt really attached to. We'll miss him and love him like crazy.**

**Depending on how it ends tonight, I might write more fanfiction. After I crawl out of my post-Monk depression hole. It remains to be seen.**


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